


Free Rein

by elsewherewolf



Category: Camelot (TV)
Genre: A little fluffy, First Time, M/M, but with a bit of bite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 13:32:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1228246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elsewherewolf/pseuds/elsewherewolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Words were always the thing that would bring them together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Free Rein

**Author's Note:**

> I started this fic sometime last year and only now got around to finishing it. It's the one and only fic I've written for this fandom, so hopefully I've done the characterization right. We'll see. :)

“'Failure to read what is happening in another's soul is not easily seen as a cause of unhappiness: but those who fail to attend-'"

"How do we read souls?" Gawain interrupts. 

"'Those who fail to attend the motions of their own soul are necessarily unhappy'," Kay finishes, then looks sidelong at Gawain. "I don't know, I suppose that we look for signs, or ask the right questions."

"'What's happening in your soul?' That sort of question?"

Kay smiles, his tone light when he replies. "I suppose if you're you, and taking the direct approach, yes."

Gawain nods, thoughtful, and looks back to the page they are reading together. "How many times have you read this book, Kay?"

"I've lost count. Father..." Kay swallows, the instant recollection of his father's face as ever too much to simply smile through. "Many times. Why do you ask?"

"You're a good teacher, I haven't told you so yet."

“'All men are made one for another: either then teach them better or bear with them.' Bearing with you would never have brought you to Camelot. I promised to teach you to read, and I always meant to make the best job that I could of it.” Kay doesn't look away when Gawain's gaze lifts to him. The back of his neck gets hot, and the tips of his fingers seem to itch, but he doesn't look away.

"Why was it so important for me to come to Camelot? There were always other warriors you could have had."

Kay clears his throat at Gawain's choice of words, at war with himself and wishing he could be silent in enduring it. "I wanted you. Leontes spoke highly of you, and Camelot needed your expertise. We had good, polished champions, but what we needed was your rough edges. There were other warriors, of course, but none like you. You were fierce and strong, humble and intelligent, and it is difficult to find a man with such dividedly harmonious qualities."

He looks down and turns a few pages, the hairs on his arms standing on end as Gawain reaches to hold one edge of the book down. "Read this part," Gawain murmurs, apparently embarrassed.

Kay glances over the words, and some suspicion forms in his mind that makes him want to get up, go outside and escape Gawain's strange intensity. “'Whatever is in any way beautiful hath its source of beauty in itself, and is complete in itself; praise forms no part of it. So it is none the worse nor the better for being praised.'” 

Gawain repeats the words, following them with his finger, and Kay leans back a little to watch his lips moving, his eyes concentrating on the shape of the letters, and understanding of them dawning as his brow begins to unfurl.

"A thing is beautiful whether we recognise that beauty or not?" 

"In simple terms, yes. But all things are beautiful in some way, to different men."

Gawain nods, and gently closes the book. "What do you find beauty in?"

"Me? Many things. This book; a man's mind laid bare for me to examine at will. No," Kay says, carefully taking the book from Gawain's grip to bind it closed before he hands it back. "That's not all. That I'm able to share it with you, that you hunger for the meaning as much as the words themselves. The certainty you have in any battle, the fearless, cautious predator you can be. Your hands." 

"My hands?"

Kay's eyes are drawn to them, and his breath stutters in his throat as Gawain leans toward him. 

But he is just getting up, to put the book back into his pack, and Kay is left - as always - wanting. He wishes he possessed the same level of courage, or recklessness, as Arthur. To be so assured of himself, to hold so much conviction in his own desires, down to the core of himself, that he could just _take_ what he wants. 

"Will you answer me the same, Gawain?" He asks, after a period of silence so long that he'll forgive Gawain if the context has been lost. He turns his head to watch Gawain duck beneath a broken beam, and sit again. 

"I'm sure I find beauty in fewer things than you."

"Maybe you need to remember to look for it."

Gawain pauses, looks over the fire at him, and smiles. "Will I enjoy Socrates this much?" He asks.

"'He is richest who is content with the least'," Kay murmurs, then laughs, looking up through the hole in the roof at the clearing sky. "Shelter, food and company are all a man truly needs, and I believe the greatest riches come from the latter."

"You talk like a scholar, Kay. Your father would be proud of the man you've become."

Kay's eyes snap down from the sky to Gawain's face, and he tries to temper his expression but the pain was clearly too visible. Gawain looks away, apologizing.

"No, don't. You're right. He would be; he was." Kay swallows, and aims instead for deflection. "You avoided my question, Knight."

"Innocence." Gawain pokes at the fire again, and Kay watches the smoke curl up towards the open air, tiny sparks caught within it. "Trust, and knowledge. Life, and death. Desire, and man's inability to keep it hidden. Things that I find beauty in," he clarifies, though Kay needed no clarification.

"Such broad concepts, I imagine you're drowning in it every day," Kay says, subdued. "Have I done such a terrible job?"

"'All men are made for one another.' You taught me that, so I would have to answer no." 

"Oh, God. I've given you words and all the power that comes with them, what have I done?" Kay groans, grinning with it. The grin fades though, once his brain has caught up. "Don't make light of me, Gawain. Not- Just don't."

"Then don't think me a fool. I may not know words in the same way that you do, but I do know men."

Kay watches Gawain move, feeling wary with anticipation, all of his senses on edge. 

"I enjoy your company, Kay. Now that we are free of Morgan's clutches on Camelot, now that Arthur no longer needs us as a constant presence, I enjoy it all the more."

Gawain prowls around Kay, making him shiver, making his palms sweat and his neck prickle. 

"Why do _you_ think I came to Camelot?" Gawain asks.

Kay swallows, feeling Gawain come to a halt behind him. A sound dies in his throat when Gawain kneels, and carefully reaches around him to unbuckle his bracers. He exhales, and looks down to watch Gawain's hands. "To be better, and to show us how to be better."

"Among other reasons." Gawain's smiling; Kay might not be able to see it, but he can hear it all the same. "The way your voice sounded, when you read Marcus Aurelius for me that morning." Kay feels his cloak loosen, and drop from his back, Gawain's fingers pulling at his tunic. He lifts his arms, still barely breathing, and shivers anew when the tunic is taken from him as well.

"I have read what is happening in your soul, and I am attending the motions of my own," Gawain murmurs, before pressing his lips to the scruff of Kay's neck. Kay can't help himself; he moans, low, and tilts his head. Gawain takes the invitation, mouthing at the skin of his jaw and his throat, pushing clever fingers up beneath Kay's undershirt. At that touch, Kay finds himself unable to think, unable to move for the quickening of his heart and the swelling _something_ in the pit of his stomach. "I will never make light of you," Gawain tells him, his voice fierce for a moment before it softens again. "Tell me, do I have free rein here?"

"Yes," Kay replies, weakened by Gawain's hands, by the rough of his beard and the heat of the fire. "Whatever you want of me."

The touches pause, and Kay wonders for a moment if he's given too much, but then Gawain is kissing his nape again and strumming at his skin and slowly working his undershirt off. It's chilly, when the shirt leaves his body, and he shivers, startled by it. Gawain's hands pull at him and he leans back, turning his head because he wants to feel his mouth kissed by Gawain's, to truly give himself over.

"I've waited long enough, to be certain of this," Gawain tells him, stroking his stomach, his sides. "It seems I had no reason to."

"I should have-" Kay's words fail him, and he grabs at Gawain's wrist, for the fingers slipping lower than he thought they might, yet. "At least kiss me first?" 

"You gave me free rein, remember?" Gawain presses his grin to Kay's mouth even so, a brief and nowhere near deep enough kiss to satisfy Kay's building hunger. He pushes his fingertips into Kay's skin, with his other hand sets about loosening laces, making the path to Kay's cock an easier one. Kay arches at the first brush of Gawain's knuckles against too sensitive flesh, glad that Gawain is there to catch him, strong arms and worn leather.

"You remind me to look for it," Gawain says, quietly, resting his chin over Kay's shoulder. "I find it here. If you only saw what I can see."

"Feeling it is enough, I swear," Kay groans, trying to reach to help Gawain strip him but finding his arms held too tightly. 

"Let me, Kay. This is for me as much as for you."

Bared, Kay shudders, turning as much as he can to press his cheek against Gawain's, grinds his teeth at teasing, light touches. He finds himself beyond embarrassment, that he is as vocal as he is, or that his body is displayed while Gawain's remains hidden from his view. It's better and worse all at the same time, to be the entire focus of Gawain's attention.

But with the slide of Gawain's thumb over the slowly swelling head of his cock, Kay is glad of the arm that steadies him. He inhales sharply, and it's leather and blood and his own musk that fills his mouth, warms and wakes every sense to what is around him. The cradle of Gawain's thighs and bent knees, the soft heat of his breath that smells of ash and wine, the flex of muscle in his forearm. Kay can even feel an old scar on the palm of Gawain's hand, where it strokes him, too slow.

"Where were you, before?" He asks, closing his eyes to better let it all wash over him. 

"How could I see you with all that I am when I was brought to Camelot to have my eyes constantly on your brother and his knights?" Gawain chuckles, and it's almost reproachful. "You deserve me in whole, not in the parts I could have given."

"I think you reserve yourself, still," Kay says, then tries to twist away when Gawain's fingers stray lower than his cock. It's no use, the arm over his chest, the fingers around his bicep both tighten to a controlled point that Kay thinks might be somewhere close to the breaking of bones.

"You were saying?" Gawain chews a kiss into Kay's throat then, but for all the ferocity, the touches are still maddeningly light.

He understands, trying to find room to breathe while Gawain's mouth paints his skin, that this is so much more than Gawain simply having him. There's a claim being staked, rules being written, some silent question being asked.

"Yes," Kay whispers, tipping back his head to stretch out his throat. It's painful to swallow, but it's good because it means something. 

Gawain's kiss is rough where the fingers curling about Kay's cock are careful, deliberate. A warm grip, a little saliva and slick, and Gawain begins to stroke him with a purpose that leaves Kay breathless, struggling uselessly inside Gawain's arm. It takes an embarrassingly short time once it has begun until it's over, Kay's jaw slack on the echo of a cry, his hip and thigh spattered and Gawain smearing the rest across his throat, following it with hot, hungry kisses that only make Kay moan more. It's a relief when Gawain finally releases him, but at the same time he is left bereft, vulnerable. 

How can he say 'keep holding me', though?

He's laid carefully down, his cloak wadded beneath his head, and Gawain stretches out beside him.

"Are you-"

"Don't concern yourself with it, Kay. Not yet." Gawain turns to look at him, reaches to palm his hip, and leans to kiss him.

Threading his fingers into Gawain's hair, Kay smiles, stroking buttery soft leather and toying with the fastenings. "It's too late. I'm already concerned." 

"You are still warm with pleasure, Kay. Take a moment," Gawain insists, lifting Kay's hand to his lips. "Enjoy it."

"Are you shy of me?"

"No." Gawain grins, his gaze roaming over Kay's naked form. "No, I am not."

"Shy of yourself?" 

"You are a farmer's boy, what am I?" Gawain asks. "Only a knight, already weary of the world."

" _Only_ a knight?" Kay frowns, reaching to Gawain's hand. "You're much more than that, you are protector, teacher, liberator-"

"Executioner."

"That woman was already fallen. Fear no retribution, Gawain. It was decided, and it was right."

"You were not the one who wielded the sword."

Kay sighs, pushing Gawain to his back, climbing to straddle him. "Do I appear repulsed?"

"I was vulgar to you when we first met."

"Yet still I love you." Kay's mouth closes quickly, as if he could catch the words just spoken and swallow them back down instead of giving air to them. It's too late, of course.

Far from the mocking words Kay thought might have come, Gawain only smiles a soft smile and sits up, his hands moving to squeeze Kay's shoulders, slip up to cup his jaw.

"I thought you a beautiful, innocent boy. I still do. I am sharp, Kay, bloody edges and destructive ways. It's who I am, and I will not change."

"Still," Kay says, staring into eyes gone dark and dangerous, "I love you."

"This is what you want?" Gawain leans back, tearing loose his clothing, baring himself for Kay's eyes, scars and all. "This?"

"Every rough part," Kay replies, touching a particularly thick and ugly scar above Gawain's heart. "Give me free rein as well," he murmurs, bending to kiss it. 

"What would you do?"

Kay lifts a brow, his heart thudding hard and he knows Gawain can see that he is only being brave, that this is new to him and he has no idea of how to answer that. "I would surrender in all the ways you cannot."

"You miss the point of free rein," Gawain says, lip twitching. "But go on. If that is truly what you want, give yourself to me. I grant you free rein to love me, Kay."

"You mock me again?" 

"No!" Gawain sighs, pressing his hand into the small of Kay's back. "I've never loved before. I am not wise, nor am I in command of words the way that you are, but let me try. I will keep you safe. Go ahead of you when the path is treacherous, stand beside you when you need to lean on me, and be behind you to push you towards whatever seems too far out of reach."

"You are a terrible liar, Gawain. No command of words-"

"Let me finish. I will also lie with you when your body aches to be filled by nothing less than a man." Gawain grins with the last, pressing his hand lower, squeezing soft flesh. 

"You think yourself the only man in Camelot?" Kay asks, too distracted to address the rest of what Gawain had said, which was as beautiful as any wedding vow he's heard.

"The only one you care to fill you, yes."

"Well." Kay smiles, shifting in Gawain's lap. "How long must I wait?"

"If I hurt you..."

"You won't. Please, Gawain."

Kay almost asks if Gawain has done this before, because the slow and maddening tease of his finger seems too well practised. In the end he finds it isn't important, because it's his name Gawain mutters between kisses bitten into his shoulders as he's pushed and lowered to the ground again, his name Gawain growls quietly when two fingers sink deep, his name murmured soothingly when he gasps and reaches blindly for Gawain's arms.

Strange and new, but something of Gawain's pledge to him is there throughout, the sturdy body over his a haven. He knows he's safe, knows that he's cherished. Gawain doesn't hurt him. The air's grown cold and his skin is chilled, but there's a fire raging in his belly that leaves him sweating, and when he feels the brush of Gawain's cock against his hip he reaches instantly for it. Needing to touch, to learn the shape of it, its weight. 

"This, inside me?" He squirms, breathing out noisily when his movement only makes Gawain dig his fingers in again, deeper, to a place Kay never knew could be touched, least of all feel so good.

"Yes, all of it. If it's still what you want."

" _Yes._ Yes, it is." Kay touches Gawain's face, the strong line of his jaw, the crease of his brow. "I'm yours."

Two words that seem to hold more power than his confession of love, Kay thinks, when he feels Gawain's careful reserve seem to melt away in favour of claiming, having, _filling_ him. His mouth falls open, the sound lost from it with the too-slow too-fast slide of Gawain's cock. Thicker than his fingers, and Kay forgets to breathe until his chest hurts with it and Gawain puts a hand beneath his head, gentle counterpoint to everything else.

"You are," Gawain mutters, his eyes a little dazed and fixed on Kay's mouth. 

Kay touches all of the places that he can reach; he pulls Gawain into him, harder and deeper, crushes his thighs to Gawain's hips and maps out all of the scars that his fingers can find, pressing pleas into hot skin. He feels a calloused palm against his cheek, lips come down against his in a rough, desperate kiss. Hears the slap of Gawain's hand hitting the floor, soft grunts with each thrust and his own answering moans. Gawain slides his other hand between their bodies, takes Kay's cock in a firm grip, leaning away while Kay still reaches for him, holds loosely to his side. 

"You can let go," Gawain says, clipped and breathless. "I have you."

Kay's fingers flex against Gawain's ribs, he pushes his head back then lifts it again, trying to find Gawain's eyes but he's blind with it all. His mind races then slows, he feels weak, the world narrowed to where he is filled and where he is held, and all he can do is clutch and hold when it comes, a surge that pulls him to pieces before slamming him back together. He gasps for air, trying to pull Gawain's hand from him but his body is useless to him.

Gawain kisses his loose mouth, sucking what little breath he has clean out when he follows, three quick sharp jolts that seem to leave him as wrecked and as weak as Kay feels.

"Sorcerer," Kay mumbles, after a while. "What you have done to me..." He groans when Gawain pulls free of him, feels the slick warmth on his thighs and an emptiness that makes him press to Gawain's side when he moves.

They lie in silence for a while, Gawain only moving to pull his heavy cloak over the both of them.

"What should we tell my brother?"

"That you are mine, now."

Kay smiles, turning his head to kiss the side of Gawain's neck. "I certainly don't envision him arguing with you."


End file.
